Unwilling Hero
by Alethia Su
Summary: We all know that Harry's not the only hero in the world...a mysterious stranger in the Forbidden Forest can attest to this.


  
Yes...plot bunnies manifest in mysterious ways....  
Harry has a talk with a mysterious stranger about being an unwilling hero. Bonus points for whoever guesses the identity of the mysterious stranger.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Sunset. Night was coming quickly. The December sun, blazing a spectacular red, was slowly sinking over the Lake, tingeing the snow-covered Hogwarts a pale pink. Looking at the school from the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a young boy made a mental note about how beautiful the school was.   
_Yet another reason for you to leave it, Potter..._  
Sighing quietly, Harry turned around and walked into the dark undergrowth. He didn't really know where he was going. But he didn't really need a destination; he just needed to _leave_. Now. Before he endangered any more loved ones with his stupidity and recklessness.  
_And randomly running into the Forbidden Forest isn't reckless?_ Asked a small voice in the back of Harry's mind. Well, at least it wasn't recklessness that would get anybody killed.   
_Except for yourself... Harry_ shook his head briskly, and began to run. His life didn't matter. As long as everyone else was safe, he could deal with whatever came his way. At least, he hoped so. It seemed to him that the only way to keep everyone safe was to stay as far away as he could. It was _him that_ Voldemort wanted, and even though they would meet in the end, the least Harry could do was give the bastard a run for his money. So he would keep running, as long as he could.  
And Harry kept running, until he tripped over a rather overgrown tree root and fell to the ground whereupon he got the wind knocked out of him.   
Lying on the ground in semi-shock, Harry tried to get his breath back and collect his thoughts as quickly as he could. Being in the Forbidden Forest was dangerous enough, but lying on the ground breathless and unable to say the easiest spell? That was suicide.   
Groaning quietly, he got to his knees and slowly stood up, surveying the clearing he had just realized he was in. It was a small, self-contained swamp, with tall trees and huge roots all around, and fungal growths hanging off of the branches.   
_Wow... Hagrid never took us here, now did he... _Stepping through a hanging of moss, Harry saw a fallen, rotting tree trunk that looked perfect for sitting on. Stepping closer, he saw that he was not the only one who thought that. A young man with sand-colored hair was perched on the middle of the log, staring into the swamp water and apparently thinking hard about something.   
Not sure what to do, Harry simply stood there for a few moments, briefly wondering what a normal looking man like him was doing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. As though hearing his thoughts, the man looked up at Harry, and smiled widely.  
Hello, Harry. Nice to see you here.  
Came Harry's intelligent response.  
The man's smile deepened. Don't worry about how I know your name. That's not really important.  
Harry, on the contrary, felt that it was _very_ important, but he let it go. Er, okay...erm, yeah...I don't want to sound too...uh...fowward, but...  
Who am I and what the hell am I doing in the Forbidden Forest? the man finished for him.  
Er, yeah, mostly, and why are you wearing a potato sack like a robe? Harry said this all very fast, before his confidence and voice failed him.  
The mysterious man gave a small laugh. It's not a potato sack, Harry. It's a type of material used to make the...robes...that people wear where I'm from.  
Well. The man obviously wasn't from around here, then. Where _was_ he from? _  
Hermione would probably know what country wears those types of robes. Maybe a Middle Eastern one? But he doesn't **look** Middle Eastern, though he has an awesome tan..._ And then there was the problem of this man seeming oddly familiar to Harry, as though Harry had seen him before, a long time ago...  
Realizing that he was staring, Harry blinked and smiled apologetically. The man smiled back, even more widely if possible, and Harry decided that whoever this was wasn't evil. He also decided that he needed to give the man a name.  
What's your name? he asked appropriately.   
Don't worry about that just yet. You can call me whatever you want. I'm not even sure that my real name translates into your language. Come to think of it, I'm not sure how it is I'm even SPEAKING your language, but then, the swamp always has been a strange place.  
Oh, so this place is simply called the swamp, then? I was wondering about that...not many swamps in England, especially in the middle of forests in winter.  
So that's where I am...England, did you say?  
More or less. Considering the Hogwarts was Unplottable, Harry just assumed that the school was somewhere in the vicinity of England.  
_Hermione would know that, too. And then Ron would call her a know-it-all for knowing that, and ask her how she knew, and she would make a comment about Hogwarts, a History, and---_  
And that's where the thoughts stopped, because it was too painful to be reminded of his friends' bickering when he wasn't going to see them again for quite some time, if things went according to plan. If he could call it a plan.  
He was so engrossed in his own thoughts, he didn't notice the man sliding over on the log to make room for Harry. Come sit, Harry. You look like you're about to die where you stand.  
Nodding, Harry walked over to the log and sat down, still thinking about his plan' and trying not to think about his friends back at Hogwarts. The man looked at his with sympathetic eyes.  
Worried about hurting your friends, are you? Harry looked over at him sharply, suddenly doubting his conclusion that the man was harmless. The man, however, simply laughed. Don't look so wary, Potter. I'm just saying that because I can completely empathize with you. It's hard to be the unwilling hero, isn't it? The man stared off into the distance, focusing his gaze upon something that wasn't there. Hard to accept your fate, because it's not really what you want. Hard to do it alone, even though there's really no other way to do it. Hard to have to feign a normal life, while on the inside you're just waiting, waiting for something to happen, something to just explode and force you to drop the facade, force you to do things for the good of the whole, even though it endangers the few. Hard, because the few are the few that you love and care about. Especially hard, because they'll never understand.  
Harry's stare was now one of amazement. How could this mysterious stranger somehow know _exactly_ what had been going on inside his head for the past three or four years? This robed man, with the sandy hair and the kind smile, had just summed up the story of his life, in less than five sentences.  
Y..yeah. It _is _ hard. But...how did you know that? Harry felt sure that if this man was some sort of wizarding hero from France, or something, he would have heard of him by now, from Hermione or something.   
I know it because I live it too. At home, I guess you could call it, I'm the local hero, after a fashion. All unwillingly. My situation is similar to yours, Harry. My parents are both dead; well, my mother is, and my father... He scowled at the word, and continued bitterly, My father is as good as dead. My friends all endanger themselves for me, because they believe I'm their only hope. More than one of them has died, helping me. More than one of them has died or almost died because of stupid mistakes I've made. And yet, they'll continue doing it all, because they believe in me. I often wonder: why do they believe in me? And I know that you wonder, too, Harry. More recently, you've been wondering why you're sticking around if your presence endangers everyone so much. Which is why, I'm assuming, you're leaving your life behind.  
Once again, Harry could only nod and stare. He hoped that his jaw hadn't dropped too far down.  
The stranger fiddled with a loose thread on his robes. Then he looked Harry straight in the eyes. Harry noticed that he had the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen.   
Go back, Harry. Go back, because they need you. Because they love you. And because you need them. And you love them. Running away will only make things worse. Trust me, I kn--  
Why should I trust you?! yelled Harry suddenly, finally finding his voice. You seem to be doing the same thing as me, running away from your problems, running away from your fate. I don't even know your name, and you expect me to listen to your advice? I don't even know if you're connected to Voldemort, or if you're just some nutter who likes to sit on logs in the middle of swamps!  
It was the stranger's turn to be speechless. After a long moment, though, he started to laugh.   
Touché, Harry! You're right, I am running away from my problems a bit, now aren't I? Though I must say I've run quite a bit farther than you have... He chuckled to himself a few more times, and then sobered. So I'll make you a deal. Now, don't give me that wary look of yours, Harry, this is genuine: If I go back, you go back too. I'll even go back first, and trust your word. What do you say?  
Harry was silent for a moment. Then, he nodded and stuck out his hand.   
  
They shook on it, and the man bowed to him deferentially.   
So long, Harry Potter. Remember what I've said, and good luck. You're gonna need it...  
Harry smiled confusedly at that last part. Now, he _knew_ he'd heard that somewhere...but before he could ask the stranger about it, the stranger had turned and walked off into the forest.  
Hey! What's your name?! yelled Harry to the disappearing brown robe. The man, however, didn't seem to hear him. Harry was about to try again when the stranger suddenly faded out of existence.   
Harry's jaw dropped. _Well, there's something you don't see every day. _  
Sighing, Harry took one last look around the swamp, somehow knowing that he wasn't going to be seeing it again for a long time, if ever. Slowly, he stood up from the log, and turned around, heading back towards the school. Back towards home.  
*~*~*~*~*  
Night had fallen by the time Harry reached the edge of the forest again. The white snow glistening on the towers and statues outside the school took in the full moonlight, and once again Harry noted how beautiful the school was. He smiled to himself, and started to walk through the snow back to the castle.   
As he passed Hagrid's house, he suddenly stopped. Realizing who he had just been with, he began to laugh hysterically, not caring that it would wake Hagrid up. He fell to his knees, barely able to catch his breath. As a light turned on inside Hagrid's hut, and the door opened with sounds of a barking Fang and a confused Hagrid, Harry had time for one last thought that sent him into more gales of laughter before he faced reality.   
_Well, Hermione DEFINITELY would've known who that was, but the author of Hogwarts a History wouldn't...and neither would Ron...._  
  
FIN.  
  
Well, erm....yes. It was strange. The mysterious stranger was Luke Skywalker, because I'm guessing none of you knew that. Or maybe you did. Well, it's not exactly a crossover...it could just be some nutter with sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, a brown robe, and a kind smile...-.- Yeah I know. But tell me if you liked it! I'll write more, eventually. Probably a chaptered one, with H/G R/Hr stuff flying everywhere.


End file.
